


i love you as certain dark things are to be loved (in secret)

by captainsthve



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Declarations Of Love, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends With Benefits, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Joe and Nicky Never Got Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:06:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28412868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainsthve/pseuds/captainsthve
Summary: They collapse on the bed after, panting and facing each other, legs tangling. Nicky reaches up to gently push a sweaty curl off Joe’s forehead, thumb sliding down to sweep across his cheekbone.The tenderness of it brings a lump to Joe’s throat. He knows he shouldn’t push this but he can’t help it: he slides an arm around Nicky’s waist and pulls him a little closer to kiss him, much softer but somehow more desperate than the ones they’ve just shared.Nicky pulls back first, but doesn’t go far, resting their foreheads together. They share breath, and Joe thinks about saying it then, just to alleviate some of the ache in his chest.‘I love you’he wants to say. Or even just,‘Stay for a little longer this time.’Or: The friends with benefits AU but they're immortal idiots so it's lasted centuries.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 160
Kudos: 624





	1. between the shadow and the soul

**Author's Note:**

> Tile from Pablo Neruda's _Sonnet XVII _because... well, you know why.__

Nicky and Nile are making breakfast when Joe stumbles in drearily. Unlike Nicky - and now Nile, to Nicky’s delight - Joe is very much not a morning person, especially when they’re on downtime like they are right now. He plops down in one of the stools at the island and puts his head in his arms, groaning for dramatic effect.

Andy, who barely sleeps anyway and is nursing a coffee, kicks at the bottom of his stool. “What are you even doing up so early?”

“Nico wanted to go to the market this morning.” He looks up as he feels Nicky’s warm hand wrap around his wrist, sliding a coffee towards him with the other. It’s made perfectly with a little bit of milk and Joe accepts with a sleepy grin, “Thank you, _habibi_.”

Nicky gives him a little smile back, “You know you don’t have to come with me, Yusuf.”

Joe shrugs and says simply, “I want to.”

Nile watches their exchange with a smile on her face, “I never asked,” she says, cutting up strawberries for her pancakes, “How long have you two been together?”

Joe feels his heart leap into his throat at the innocent question, and he carefully tries to school his expression to something neutral. He must not have been fast enough because whatever Nile sees on his face makes her own smile falter.

He opens his mouth to respond but Nicky beats him to it, turning from where he’s been flipping a pancake. “We’re not together, Nile,” he says, not unkindly, “I’ve known Joe the longest, and he’s my closest friend.”

Joe’s not sure if it’s worse having to explain their relationship himself, lying through his teeth in the process or listening to Nicky casually explain that he doesn’t feel the same sort of love for Joe that Joe feels for him. The latter is currently winning out. 

Nile glances at Joe again quickly, then back at Nicky, “Sorry, shouldn’t have assumed. I just thought, well- I don’t know.”

Joe knows. He’s loved Nicky so deeply, for so long, that it must be obvious to anyone who spends enough time with them. It only took Andy and Quynh a week to figure it out after they first met. But he can’t say any of this, so he ignores the ache in his chest and instead says, “Nothing to apologize for, we get it a lot.”

Nile ‘hmms’ and goes back to her strawberries.

Nicky puts a stack of pancakes on Andy’s plate, and pushes the maple syrup towards her so she can drown them in even more sugar. “Do you mind finishing up here, Nile? I’m gonna change so Joe and I can head out.”

Joe avoids looking at Nicky as Nile waves him off, studiously studying the countertop and drinking his coffee. Everyday he thinks that this should hurt less- he’s had over 800 years of practice after all- but the wound on his heart remains tender, not yet healed over or scarred.

He remembers a time when he did have hope for them, when they’d gotten past their initial enmity, and Nicolò had worked through what he’d been taught about Yusuf’s people, and they’d grown closer as forced travel companions. He’d fallen in love with Nicky so steadily, so inevitably, it barely surprised him when he realized it. It was just a part of him: _I love Nicolò di Genova. Of course I do._

He still believed then, that Nicolò could have felt the same way for him, but his hopes of that had quickly been dashed. It happened after they’d joined Andromache and Quynh. Yusuf had gone by himself to barter for some food in town, and returned to find the other three deep in conversation, not noticing that he had come back to the inn they were staying at for the night.

“... you’re saying there’s really nothing between you and Yusuf?” Quynh’s voice drifted through the door.

“We’re friends, of course.” Nicolò said.

Andromache’s skeptical tone sounded next, “Yes, of course. But I really think that there could be more-”

Nicolò’s harsh response cut her off, “Leave it, Andromache. I told you, Yusuf and I are not meant for each other like that.”

Heartbroken at those words and the conviction with which Nicolò stated it - Nicolò, who often talked about their higher purpose and _destiny_ , not believing that they were meant for each other- Yusuf had resolved then to keep his feelings to himself.

Joe startles from his thoughts into the present when Nile reaches across the counter to squeeze his hand. He knows she means well but he can’t stand the slight bit of pity on her face when she murmurs, “You okay? I didn’t realize-”

Joe squeezes back and cuts her off with a tight smile, ignoring Andy’s eyes on him. “I’m fine. I’m gonna go get changed too, okay?”

***

They don’t talk about the conversation with Nile when they go out. Joe can’t bring himself to bring it up, knowing that even a joke about it would reveal too much of his heart. Besides, he’s sure that Nicky’s forgotten about it by now, doesn’t linger over these things like Joe does.

They wander through the farmer’s market, Nicky leading the way to get the produce he wants and Joe chatting with the vendors. These markets are not the ones of his childhood but he enjoys the familiarity of shopping like this, rather than the impersonal big-box stores that are customary these days. Mostly though, he enjoys being around Nicky, who he hasn’t spent quality time with in over a year.

Before the fiasco with Merrick and Booker, and their recent addition of Nile, they had all split up for a year, Andy citing the need for a break. Joe had thought about asking Nicky to spend the year with him then, but gave up the idea to spare himself a little pain. Maybe some distance would do his ever-tender heart some good, he’d thought.

Now, Joe watches him carefully consider a loaf of rye bread, and realizes how stupid he was being, thinking that his feelings could have lessened even a fraction in the year they’ve been apart. This is _Nicky_ \- Joe has loved him for centuries, and he’ll love him for however many centuries they have left.

Nicky looks up at him from the selection of fresh bread, that prominent nose scrunched endearingly. “Do you think Nile has a preference? I should have asked her what she likes before we left.”

Joe shakes his head, fond. “I’m sure it’s fine, Nico. She doesn’t seem the picky type.”

“No, I know, but I want to make her feel at home.”

Joe’s breath catches. Nicky has a way of saying sweet things like that in such a matter of fact tone. “Get the rye,” he says, “And we’ll ask her what she likes next time.”

It’s midday when they get back from the market to an empty house, Andy having taken Nile out to explore the city. Nicky sets their purchases down and gives him _the look_ , the one Joe has developed a bit of a Pavlovian response to.

Nicky tilts his head towards the hall where their bedrooms are, “Hey,” he says, a lock of hair falling into his eyes, “We have a little time. You want to?”

Joe looks at him, helpless in the face of those seafoam eyes. He thinks for a split second of saying ‘no’, but it’s a thought that never wins out in these moments. Joe giving in to his desire for Nicky is a foregone conclusion.

In lieu of response, Joe strides forward and kisses him, groaning when Nicky opens up for him immediately, one of his hands sliding into Joe’s curls. It’s been so long since they’ve done this and Joe savours the kiss as best he can, letting Nicky crowd him against the counter. Nicky pulls back eventually and tugs Joe towards his bedroom.

Nicky fucks him that afternoon, hard and steady, leaving Joe breathless with how good it is.

Nicky has him kneeling up on the bed, one arm around Joe’s chest and the other gripping his hip, fucking into him relentlessly. Joe throws his head back on Nicky’s broad shoulder, mindless with pleasure, “Ah, ah, _fuck_ , Nicolò, please, please-”

Nicky swallows his pleas with a dirty kiss, “Shh, _tesoro_ ,” he says against Joe’s pliant mouth, “I’ll give you what you need.”

Joe moans into the kiss, the endearment making his heart clench. He never wants this to end. He wants to stay right here, taking whatever Nicky will give him, drunk on his cock and his kisses. Joe can feel his orgasm rising steadily but he doesn’t want to come, doesn’t want this to be over- _not yet, not yet_.

But then Nicky moves his hand from Joe’s hip to his cock, stroking him steadily with those broad, calloused fingers. Nicky stops kissing him to bury his mouth against Joe’s neck, sucking a searing bruise into the sensitive skin there. And it’s the possessiveness of it - the idea that maybe Nicky wants to _mark_ him, like Joe is _his_ \- that does it for Joe, and he comes all over Nicky’s hand and his own stomach.

Nicky fucks into him once, twice more and follows him over the edge, groaning in Joe’s ear.

They collapse on the bed after, panting and facing each other, legs tangling. Nicky reaches up to gently push a sweaty curl off Joe’s forehead, thumb sliding down to sweep across his cheekbone.

The tenderness of it brings a lump to Joe’s throat. He knows he shouldn’t push this but he can’t help it: he slides an arm around Nicky’s waist and pulls him a little closer to kiss him, much softer but somehow more desperate than the ones they’ve just shared.

Nicky pulls back first, but doesn’t go far, resting their foreheads together. They share breath, and Joe thinks about saying it then, just to alleviate some of the ache in his chest. _‘I love you’_ he wants to say. Or even just, _‘Stay for a little longer this time.’_

Before he can muster up any courage, Nicky leans back, “We should get cleaned up. The girls will want something to eat when they get back.”

Once Nicky leaves the room, Joe groans softly and rolls over to bury his face in the pillow. Frustratingly, because they’re in Nicky’s room, it smells like him, which does nothing to help his situation.

Joe reaches a hand to his neck, hoping to press his fingers to the mark Nicky had made just moments earlier, but it’s already faded away.

***

Nicolò di Genova wishes he were a better man. If Nicky were a better man, he would deserve someone like Joe.

Actually, Nicky’s truest desires are wilder than that. What he really wishes is that he and Joe had not met the way they did, that their story was not borne of blood and battlefield.

In another world, they would have met centuries ago, back when they were still Yusuf and Nicolò. Yusuf would have been on a merchant’s trip to Genoa with his father, and they would have met and gotten to know each other in the streets of Nicolò’s hometown. Nicolò would have memorized some lines of poetry or bought him some nice charcoals, and Yusuf would have smiled that brilliant smile and fallen for him.

Or perhaps, they would’ve met in modern times. At a bar maybe, or on a blind date. Nicky would have been drawn in by Joe’s handsome smile and charm, and they would have hit it off right away. Nicky would have known all the right things to say to make Joe fall in love with him, and -

Nicky cuts off his own train of thought.

There’s little use, he thinks, dwelling on the what-ifs. What really happened is that Nicky took part in an invasion of land not his own, and not as an innocent bystander either. He’ll never forget that when he and Joe met, Nicolò was the one to draw first blood, that he was the one to run Yusuf through with his longsword, before Yusuf was able slit his neck in retribution.

Nicky has been atoning for his actions at Jerusalem his whole immortal life, but he carries the guilt of it with him to this day. He’s been carrying his love for Joe almost as long, but he’s never entertained the thought of burdening Joe with these feelings- he’ll take Joe’s friendship and nothing more. Joe deserves someone better than him. Someone worthy of that big heart, those smiles that could rival the sun.

It overwhelms him sometimes, though, how much Nicky loves him. Especially when he has Joe like this, stretched out beside him, looking fucked out and sated. There’s a bruise fading on Joe’s neck, and a satisfied look on his face, and Nicky can’t help but feel possessive and prideful to be the cause of Joe’s current state. He wants to wrap Joe in his arms, press kisses to the freckles on his nose and cheeks, and stay in this bed with him for as long as he can.

He berates himself after they do this, everytime, but he’s always been a bit of an addict to this piece of Joe he gets to have. It’s why he initiates it, why he never denies Joe when he’s the one to suggest it. As much as it hurts after, he can’t bear to let this go too, these stolen moments they have. It’s out of convenience, he knows, because they know each other’s bodies well after all these years.

Nicky never lets himself linger too long. 

He should be getting up any moment now- but then Joe pulls him closer, and kisses him like _that_. Like Nicky is something precious, like he’s worth handling delicately.It hurts, more than Nicky can say, this taste of what he cannot have. ‘ _I love you’_ Nicky thinks, _‘I’ve loved you for so long.’_

It’s this dangerous turn of thoughts that convinces Nicky that he needs to end this encounter. He pulls back from the kiss and from Joe first, as he always does, making some excuse to leave. If he stays any longer, he’ll drown in those big, warm brown eyes and say something he can’t take back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i should be studying for the lsat so naturally, i had to write this self-indulgent fic instead.
> 
> let me know what you think so far in the comments! <3
> 
> find me on tumblr @hziersmoon


	2. the plant that never blooms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if there's anything you think i should be tagging for or if you think i should bump the rating up, please let me know and i'd be happy to do so!

For Yusuf, the first time they had sex, it really was out of convenience, a way to relieve some tension for the both of them.

It happened before Yusuf had realized the extent of his feelings for Nicolò, and they were still getting to know each other (in ways that didn’t involve watching the other bleed out in front of them). The time they had spent searching for Andy and Quynh involved travelling long distances, which more or less forced conversation between them, and over time, friendship. 

They were taking a few days break from their search, frustrated by their inability to pinpoint exactly where the women in their dreams were. They considered their meager amount of coin and both agreed that a night at an inn was more than worth spending the last of it.

Yusuf collapsed on one of the cots once they got to their room, inordinately grateful for the thin mattress lining the simple wooden bed. “Nicolò,” he said solemnly, “This was a very bad idea. It was better to sleep on the hard ground when I’d forgotten what it was like to sleep on a mattress. Now that I’ve remembered, we can never go back to our bedrolls. I _refuse_.”

Nicolò rolled his eyes from where he was sitting on his own cot, unlacing the ties on his tunic.

“You’re such a prince, Yusuf.” Nicolò said, as if he hadn’t been complaining of the same thing that very morning. Yusuf raised up on his elbows to remind him of that very fact when a knock sounded at their door.

Nicolò furrowed his brow, confused as Yusuf was as to who could be visiting them at this hour, in a village where they knew no one. Nicolò swung the door open to reveal the innkeeper’s son, a young man no older than twenty, who had taken their money when they’d arrived.

“Oh. Hello.”

The young man seemed nervous once he saw that it was Nicolò who had opened the door. “Hello,” he said, “I, um, I brought these.” He thrusted a bundle of blankets towards Nicolò. “For you.”

Nicolò tilted his head in confusion, “We didn’t ask for these.”

Yusuf watched with interest as the tips of the young man’s ears turned red. “I know,” he said, “I just thought, well, this room gets quite drafty so you might, uh, appreciate them.”

Nicolò took the blankets, a genial smile on his face. “Thank you, that’s very kind of you.”

“Of course, it’s no problem at all.” His eyes dropped to Nico’s chest, where his unlaced tunic fell open to reveal his collarbone. To Yusuf’s amusement, the young man’s blush grew darker. He looked back up, “If there’s anything else you need, please let me know. I’m happy to help.”

Nicolò closed the door as the young man all but scurried away. He regarded Yusuf with confusion, “That was odd. It’s not even the cold season in this region.”

Yusuf laughed, laying back against the mattress. “I bet he wishes it was the cold season.”

Nico dumped the extra blankets on Yusuf’s laughing face, “What are you on about?”

Yusuf knocked the blankets onto the floor, turning on his side to give Nicolò a shit-eating grin. “If it was cold then he’d have an excuse to, you know, _warm you up_.”

Yusuf expected to get a bit of a rise out of him, or at the very least for Nicolò to blush like the innkeeper’s son had, but he just tilted his head at the closed door consideringly. “Hmm, you think so? He’s not really my type, unfortunately.”

Yusuf sat up at that, “Oh? Not,” he considered his words carefully, “...womanly, enough?”

Nicolò snorted, a cute sound that Yusuf hadn’t heard him make before. “That’s definitely not it. More like, not old enough.”

“Well, everyone is young to us these days.”

“You know what I mean.”

Yusuf watched him take his boots off, curious now. “So you prefer the company of men, I take it?”

Nicolò’s shoulders tensed slightly, and he said shortly, “I do.”

Yusuf felt the urge to ease that tension. “I do too,” he said quickly, “Like the company of men, that is. Women, too.”

“Yes,” Nicolò said dryly, “I realized that while watching you flirt with anyone who wasn’t actively trying to kill us.”

“I did not!” Yusuf spluttered, “Besides, I’m not the one who has men throwing themselves at the opportunity to ‘help me out’ with ‘whatever I need.’”

Nicolò laughed, unguarded in a way that Yusuf rarely saw him. “Yusuf, I know for a fact that you disappeared with that starry-eyed baker in the last town we were in. And I’d bet my life he wasn’t teaching you how to master the perfect loaf.”

“Yes, well, that bet means less when you can’t stay dead.” Yusuf said petulantly, considering Nicolò with new eyes. “I didn’t know you knew about the baker. You’re very nonchalant about these things- weren’t you a priest?”

“Ah, yes.” Nicolò’s smile abated to the smaller one that Yusuf was used to. “I never claimed to be a _good_ one.”

Yusuf disagreed. He considered the kindness Nicolò extended to the people they came across in their travels, the way he had been working to better himself since Jerusalem. Yusuf didn’t like the way Nicolò was drawing in on himself, especially about this. “I’m sure that’s not true. You know Nico, if you wanted to spend time with anyone, I would never judge.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” Nicolò said, something like fondness in his eyes, “But you were right about everyone seeming younger than us these days. Besides, we barely spend enough time anywhere to make connections.”

“That’s true.” Yusuf said. Nicolò shrugged, looking unbothered. He turned and pulled off his tunic, to sleep comfortably because it really was the warm season in this particular region. Yusuf watched the muscles in his broad shoulders flex, and noticed the moles dotted across his upper back. Nicolò folded his shirt neatly and as he leaned over to put it with the rest of their things, the candlelight caught his profile and Yusuf was struck at just how _handsome_ Nicolò was.

Yusuf knew objectively that Nicolò was good looking, with those striking blue eyes and prominent features- he’d even sketched Nicolò a few times when he’d gotten a chance, drawn in by the elegant curve of his nose and sharp line of his jaw. This was the first time he’d seen all of that and thought about how undeniably attractive Nico was to him, though.

An idea occurred to Yusuf then, and he got up off the bed and strode towards Nicolò before he could second-guess it. He gripped Nico’s upper arm gently, to get his attention. Yusuf drew a deep breath as Nicolò turned to face him. “I’m going to suggest something and I want you to feel free to tell me to fuck off if you don’t want to do this.”

Nicolò raised an eyebrow, “Uh, alright.”

Yusuf cleared his throat, “What if we… helped each other out? You’re right that it’s hard to find companionship with the way we live, but we could provide some release for each other, in the meantime.”

Nicolò’s eyes widened a fraction, and Yusuf couldn’t even hope to read the emotion that flickered across them. Just as Yusuf was about to laugh and provide him with an out to this conversation, Nicolò spoke up in a hoarse voice. “You would want that? With me?”

“I would,” Yusuf said, “But only if you would want the same from me. I would not take anything from you that was not freely-”

Nicolò surged forward and cut him off with a kiss. Their noses bumped awkwardly, and their teeth clashed but then Yusuf tilted his head just right, Nicolò looped his arms around Yusuf’s shoulders to drawhim closer, Yusuf’s own arms settling around his waist and - oh. _Oh_. This was nice, Yusuf thought. More than nice.

Nicolò kissed with a single-minded focus that Yusuf only saw when he was handling his longsword, licking into Yusuf’s mouth with a sort of intensity that had Yusuf melting against him. Nicolò pulled back, teeth dragging against Yusuf’s bottom lip, making him shiver.

He spoke against Yusuf’s mouth, “I would like that.”

Yusuf felt dazed. “Alright.”

Five minutes later, Nicolò had Yusuf sitting on the edge of the cot. Nicolò knelt in front of him and sucked Yusuf’s cock down eagerly. Yusuf gripped Nico’s bare shoulder, groaning loudly at the onslaught of sensation. “ _Fuck_ , Nico, you’re good at that.”

Yusuf was a fucking genius- this was a _great_ idea.

Nicolò hummed around him, and pulled back to say vaguely, “I’ve had some practice.” He lifted one of Yusuf’s legs to settle over his shoulder and said, “Take your shirt off, I want to see you” before putting his hot mouth around Yusuf’s cock again.

Yusuf let out some expletives in Arabic he hadn’t taught Nico yet, and quickly complied, tugging his shirt up and off. He put one hand on Nico’s shoulder again, and placed the other gently in Nicolò’s hair. Nicolò looked up at him as he did, and Yusuf almost came just from the sight of those crystalline eyes on him.

Yusuf pulled Nicolò off his cock, panting, “Wait, Nico, come here, I want to kiss you.”

Nicolò wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, setting Yusuf’s leg back down, and obligingly leant up to kiss him. Yusuf sighed into his mouth, tugging Nicolò up onto his lap, the wooden cot shaking precariously under their combined weight.

Yusuf fumbled as he tugged Nico’s pants down to his thighs, not wanting to break their kiss to look at what he was doing. Yusuf wrapped an arm around Nicolò’s waist and then leant them both back so that they were laying properly on the thin mattress, Nico’s comfortable weight draped over him.

Nicolò kissed a path up his neck to his ear, sucking the lobe between his lips and murmuring, “What do you want, Yusuf?”

What did he want? _Anything_ , Yusuf thought, _everything_.

Then Nicolò shifted his hips and their hard cocks brushed, causing both of them to moan. Yusuf tugged Nicolò’s mouth back to his, rocking his own hips up with intent this time.

“Just-” He cut of with a gasp, as Nicolò hitched one of his thighs up, moving his hips down in tandem with Yusuf, “Oh yes, _yes,_ just like that Nico.”

They moved together like that, Nicolò’s grip bruising his thigh, Yusuf’s hands running over whatever bit of Nicolò’s skin he could reach. At a particularly sinuous roll of Nico’s hips, Yusuf groaned, eyes rolling back in pleasure. Yusuf was so close already, but he wanted to watch Nicolò come undone first.

Yusuf rose up on one elbow to messily kiss along Nicolò’s neck and jaw, to whisper into his ear. “Come on, _habibi_ ,” he said, voice hoarse, “I want to see you come for me.”

Then he reached up to pinch one of Nico’s nipples between his fingers, feeling Nico’s answering moan vibrate through his own body. Nicolò’s rhythm stuttered then, muscles tensing as he came, Yusuf surging up to swallow his moans as he did. Yusuf, who had already been so close, came like that too, arching further off the cot, Nico’s mouth still on his.

As they both came down from their high, they collapsed back onto the bed, sweat and come cooling on their bodies. Yusuf grinned goofily at the ceiling, “We’re pretty good at that.”

Nicolò hummed in agreement from where he was laying on Yusuf’s chest, “One of your better ideas, I’ll admit.”

Yusuf pinched Nico’s bicep lightly, “I _always_ have great ideas.”

Nicolò laughed and sat up, moving to get up off of Yusuf’s cot and making towards his own. Yusuf felt suddenly and inexplicably cold.

Before Nicolò could get too far, Yusuf grasped his wrist. “Nicolò,” he said, abruptly worried, “This doesn’t change anything, right? We’ll always be friends.” He felt vulnerable, in a way he hadn’t under Nicolò’s touch just moments earlier.

Nicolò looked down at him from where he was standing beside Yusuf’s bed. He shifted his grip so that he was holding Yusuf’s wrist too, thumb stroking gently over Yusuf’s pulse.

There was that unreadable emotion again in Nicolò’s eyes. “Of course.” He said, “We’ll always be friends, Yusuf. Nothing has changed.”

***

Joe startles awake from his very enjoyable nap to someone shoving his legs off the couch he’s stretched out on. He grumbles, snuggling his face back into the pillow he’s resting on. Or he _would_ , except that Joe’s head isn’t resting on a pillow at all. Judging from the familiar scent filling his nostrils, the gentle hand carding through his curls, and the hand stroking his back, it must be Nicky that he’s accidentally fallen asleep on.

His suspicions are confirmed when the arm stroking his back tightens around his waist, and he hears Nicky hissing softly above him, “ _Don’t_ , Andy! You’ll wake him.”

He can practically hear Andy’s eye roll. “Good,” she says, like the annoying big sister she secretly is, “I have a new job from Copley and I want to go over it with everybody.”

Joe sighs, and gives himself five more seconds to indulge in Nicky’s hand scratching at his scalp, and then gets up from where he’d apparently fallen asleep with his face pressed to Nicky’s stomach, arms clutching at Nicky’s thighs and waist, like Nicky is his personal teddy bear.

Joe rubs at his eyes and yawns, sitting up and causing Nicky’s hand to fall from his hair. “Sorry, Nicky,” Joe says, “Didn’t mean to fall asleep on you like that.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Nicky shakes his head, eyes soft on Joe as he watches him try to properly wake up. “I don’t mind. You seemed tired, did you sleep well?”

Joe’s not apologizing for falling asleep on Nicky, not really. He’s mostly apologizing for secretly wishing that he could _always_ fall asleep and wake up like that, with Nicky’s secure and comforting presence surrounding him. He’s apologizing for not being grateful for what he has, that he can’t help but long for more.

It’s been a week since they slept together after their trip to the market, and Joe’s not sure what it is but this last encounter is weighing on him more than usual.

Joe smiles, hoping the heaviness he feels doesn’t come through, and says truthfully: “I did sleep well, thank you.”

Andy’s speaks up before Joe can say anything stupid. “Okay, you guys. This new job from Copley isn’t anything wildly complicated because of the new one.” Nile raises her mug of tea in acknowledgement from where she’s curled up on the big armchair opposite the couch. “Target is Royce Bradford- old money, and currently dealing in organ trafficking. Copley says that there’s a hard drive with enough info to take him down, but it’s hidden at Bradford’s ridiculously huge mansion.”

Nile leans forward, looking young and eager- two things Joe hasn’t been in a long time. “So what’s the plan?”

“Bradford’s hosting a gala tomorrow night.” Andy says, “We’ll split into pairs. Nile’s with me- we’ll be the ones actually grabbing the hard drive. Nicky and Joe will play distraction at the party, keeping Bradford’s attention.”

Nicky speaks up, “How do you propose we keep his attention the entire time we’re there?”

Andy eyes them sidelong, and Joe knows she’s been holding off on telling them whatever she’s about to say. “Actually, it shouldn’t be too hard. Bradford apparently has a penchant for tall, dark and handsome men who look a lot like Joe. Especially those who are happily married.”

Joe narrows his eyes at her, “Meaning?”

“Meaning that you and Nicky will be posing as Mr. and Mr. Smith-Jones, naive and obliviously happy newlyweds.”

Joe wants to scream. Loudly.

In all the times they’ve gone undercover, they’ve never done this before; Joe’s played plenty of characters but it’s usually Andy and Nicky, or even Andy and Booker who play the nice, white, heteronormative couple. He says as much: “We’ve never done that before.”

Andy sighs, turning to face him more fully. “I know, Joe.” There’s a sympathetic look in her eye, but something more there too- she looks on edge, a tension in the set of her jaw. Joe realizes at that moment that this is their first job since Booker’s exile.

Joe wonders if Nicky must have realized the same thing, because he places his hand on Joe’s forearm and says, “We’ve got this, boss, don’t worry. It will go great.” Joe’s skin burns where Nicky is holding his arm, even through the layer of his hoodie. “Right, Joe?”

Joe plasters on a reassuring smile- he’s been doing that a lot lately, he realizes- and nods tightly. “Right.” He says, “It’ll be great.”

Joe is so, _so_ fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first of all, thank you so much for the positive feedback on the last chapter <3 all the love had me motivated to get this chapter up a little sooner than i planned!
> 
> i had so much fun writing this chapter and i hope you had as much fun reading it!!
> 
> find me on tumblr @hziersmoon


	3. i love you because I know no other way than this

Nicky is so, _so_ fucked.

He realizes this fact as soon as he steps into Joe’s room to ask for help with his bowtie, and promptly short circuits at the site of Joe in his suit for the gala. He looks resplendent in a well-fitted, burgundy, three piece suit that brings out the warm tones of his skin and eyes. But that’s not what has Nicky’s breath stuttering. Rather, it’s the fact that Joe has _shaved_ for the occasion.

Nicky loves Joe’s beard- truly. When he does get to have Joe in his bed, he looks forward to the burn around his mouth and on his thighs but the novelty of this has Nicky’s breath catching. Joe hasn’t really been barefaced since the 18th century, when being clean-shaven was considered the sign of a gentleman.

He looks younger like this- all sharp cheekbones, full lips on display, curls styled with product and tumbling softly over his forehead. Unbearably handsome and so incredibly dangerous for Nicky’s long-yearning heart.

Joe looks up from where he’s been putting on his watch, and gives Nicky one of those big, gorgeous, smiles of his. It used to scare Nicky, when he thought about the lengths he'd go to to get Joe to smile like that, but Nicky has long since accepted that he’d easily die a hundred deaths if it brought about Joe’s happiness.

Joe tilts his head to where Nicky is holding the fabric of his bowtie limply, eyes sparkling with mirth. “Really, Nico? You’re nearing a thousand, _habibi_ , you should know how to tie one of these things by now.”

Nicky steps closer and holds out the tie for Joe to take. “You shaved.” He responds dumbly.

Joe shrugs, winding the fabric around Nicky’s neck, fingers running under his stiff collar. “After seeing Copley’s board, I thought I should put in some effort to switch it up every now and then.” He flicks his eyes up, “You did your hair.”

The sharp, clean scent of Joe’s cologne has Nicky feeling dizzy. “Nile helped,” Nicky explains. “She said she was tired of seeing me waste my potential to look good with my ‘god-awful dad sideburns.’”

Joe chuckles, finishing up with the bowtie but not stepping away, hands smoothing down the lapels of Nicky’s suit. “I like the sideburns. They’re…” he scrunches his features in an exaggerated show of deep thought, “Endearing.”

“Fuck off,” Nicky says laughing, swatting at Joe’s hip.

Joe catches his wrist, eyes suddenly turning heavy and solemn. “You look beautiful, Nicolò. You always do.”

Joe’s earnestness will kill Nicky one of these days. He’s not sure that it’s a death he would come back from.

Nicky takes a step back from Joe’s warmth, attempting to dispel the fog of longing that’s settled in his head. He very carefully doesn’t think about kissing the freckle on Joe’s cupid’s bow that’s usually covered by his beard.

He tries for a joke instead: “Flatterer.”

Nicky wants Joe to joke back, to break this tension that Nicky can’t help but build up to something that it’s not, but Joe doesn’t.

There’s something about Joe’s expression that’s breaking Nicky’s heart. Joe looks _weary._ Tired and sad, in a way that seems bone-deep and consuming. Nicky feels a fight rising in him, as if he could physically destroy whatever is causing Joe to look like that.

Nicky reaches out and places his hand on Joe’s chest, over his heart. “Yusuf,” he says, feeling helpless in the face of Joe’s sudden melancholy. “What is it?”

Joe clutches Nicky’s hand closer to his chest, meeting Nicky’s worried gaze. “Nicolò,” he says, sounding inexplicably desperate, “I-I-” He pauses then, visibly swallowing down whatever he was about to say.

“You can tell me anything. You know that.”

Joe closes his eyes then and when he opens them again, he speaks in a rush. “I think I’m going to ask Andy if I can take a break after this job. Spend some time on my own.”

Nicky tightens his grip on Joe’s hand, as if he’ll run off right then and there.

“Oh.” He resists the urge to demand that Joe not go anywhere, that he stay wherever Nicky is. Nicky has no right to do so. “Whatever you need, Joe. This past month has been difficult for all of us.”

Joe nods, smiling tightly. He looks down at their joined hands. “I almost forgot.” He says, detangling their fingers, “We couldn’t get matching wedding bands on such short notice, so this will have to do.” Joe wiggles one of his more understated rings off his pointer finger, and then lifts Nicky’s hand, not meeting his eyes. Joe carefully and gently slides the ring onto Nicky’s left-hand ring finger. “I know it’s not your usual style but…”

Nicky feels a lump form in his throat. He brushes a thumb over the piece of jewelry, still warm from Joe’s skin. He shakes his head, involuntarily thinking about a Nicolò in another universe who might have gotten to have this for real: a wedding band, given to him by a Yusuf he could call his husband.

“No,” he murmurs, “I like it.”

*** 

Andy’s voice buzzes in his ear, “Eyes on the target?”

Joe looks across the grand hall where Bradford is being schmoozed at the edge of the marble dance floor by a group of well-dressed, plastic smiles. “We see him.”

“Then what are you waiting for? The security cameras can only be looped for so long before someone notices something.”

Joe watches Nicky take a sip of champagne to cover the way he’s talking into his comm, “Got it. We have a plan.”

Joe’s blinks at him, “We do?”

Nicky gives him a crooked smile, “We’ve always been good at improvising.”

Joe hums in agreement, thinking about their early days of travelling together, and the frankly bizarre situations they managed to get themselves into, and out of. He glances at the dance floor again, an idea forming. Joe slides his hand into Nicky’s, tugging him out onto the dance floor, Nicky following without question.

The rest of the guests are waltzing, so Joe follows suit and slides one arm around Nicky’s waist, one of Nicky’s broad hands coming up to rest on Joe’s shoulder. Their other hands join, and Joe’s heart stutters as the rings on their left hands clink together.

Joe leads them in a simple box step and murmurs, “Can you still see him?”

“Mm,” Nicky says, catching onto Joe’s idea quickly. “Keep us moving towards the left.”

Joe nods and obeys. As they dance, Joe notices Nicky keeps glancing at his jaw. “What?” Joe asks, “Do I look that bad without the beard?”

“What?” Nicky looks startled. “Of course not. This is a good look for you. I just haven’t seen you without it in a while.”

“Not since-”

“Eighteenth century England.” Nicky finishes. He looks down at Joe’s suit, his gaze making the back of Joe’s neck heat up. He meets Joe’s eyes and says in that straightforward way of his, “You look so handsome tonight.”

Joe is suddenly glad that he doesn’t blush easily. “Thank you.”

He remembers why he’d made the sudden decision to take a break after this job- he’s so close to blurting out words he can’t take back. If Nicky keeps looking at him like that, Joe’s going to tell Nicky he’s in love with him and have to hear those words again that have haunted him for centuries: _‘Yusuf and I are not meant for each other like that.’_

Nicky glances over Joe’s shoulder, “We’re pretty close to Bradford now.”

“Alright,” Yusuf steels himself, “Ready to make a scene?”

“With you? Always.”

Joe draws them close to the edge of the dance floor, and winks. Then he yelps and stumbles deliberately out of Nicky’s arms, and crashes loudly into the small table that Bradford is standing at.

***

“Again, I’m so, so sorry.” Joe babbles, dabbing at Bradford’s suit jacket with a cloth napkin. “My husband always tells me what a klutz I am, and I’m really proving him right tonight.”

Bradford holds his hands up placatingly, “No harm done.”

Nicky can’t stand the way Bradford is already eyeing Joe almost hungrily, gaze lingering where Joe’s shirt stretches across his chest. When Joe steps back next to him, Nicky indulges in the fact that he’s _meant_ to be playing the possessive husband and wraps an arm around Joe’s waist.

Joe affects one of his more charming smiles and sticks out his hand to shake, “You’re much too kind. I’m Joseph, and this is my husband Nicholas. Thank you for inviting us to your beautiful home.”

Bradford doesn’t bother to introduce himself, obviously secure that everyone here would know who he is. He shakes Joe’s hand, lingering a touch longer than necessary. “It’s nice to meet you.” Nicky gets a cursory handshake too, before he turns back to Joe. “This may sound rude, but do you work for the company? I don’t remember seeing you around.”

Joe waves a hand dismissively, “I do, but I’m just a lowly graphic designer. I was surprised to even get invited.”

Bradford chuckles, “Oh, no such thing, every one of us is needed to keep this machine going.” Nicky resists the urge to roll his eyes at the obviously rehearsed line. Bradford continues, gesturing between them. “How long have you two been together?”

Joe smiles and turns to Nicky, “Our wedding anniversary will be a year in March, won’t it, _ya amar_?”

Nicky tries not to react visibly at the new endearment. “Yes, but we’ve been together close to five years now. We met at one of Joseph’s art shows.”

“You’re an artist?” Bradford asks.

“Barely. It’s really more of a hobby than anything.”

Nicky cuts in, “You’re much too modest. He’s very talented.”

“I’m sure you are.” Bradford says, tone implicative as he takes a sip of his drink. Joe ducks his head, and Nicky can tell he’s playing up the bashfulness. “You know, I have a very extensive art collection in the west wing. I could show you, if you’d like.”

Joe widens his eyes, “Oh, I couldn’t possibly impose-”

“Nonsense. I’d be happy to do it.” He looks to Nicky, an odious glint in his eye. “That is, if your husband doesn’t mind me stealing you away for awhile.”

Nicky considers the way Bradford is sizing him up and realizes why the man has a proclivity for married men: it’s a game for him, a way for him to feel powerful in all aspects of his life. Nicky had already been vaguely disgusted by the man but now he’s personally looking forward to taking him down with whatever Copley finds on that hard drive.

Joe asks, “Would you mind, Nicholas?”

Nicky smiles woodenly, not finding this part of disgruntled husband very difficult to play. “Of course not, _amore._ ” Then, because it makes sense and Nicky is not above a little pettiness, he tips Joe’s chin down with his thumb and gives him a kiss. “Have fun.”

Nicky watches them walk away, Bradford’s hand lingering over the small of Joe’s back. Nicky nods imperceptibly at Joe when he glances back over his shoulder.

Once they move out of sight, Nicky speaks into his comm, “Joe is with the target in the west wing. How much longer?”

Nile responds this time. “Not much, maybe five more minutes.”

Andy adds, “Grab Joe in about ten minutes and we’ll meet you back at the safehouse.”

“Got it.” Nicky paces the grand hall for ten minutes more, feeling antsy all the while at not having the rest of his family in sight. As soon as he can, Nicky makes sure he’s not being followed and finds his way up to the west wing.

Just as he realizes that it’s going to take longer than expected to find Joe in this maze of long hallways and closed doors, two things happen: first, Andy’s voice sounds in his ear, “Nicky, I think someone caught onto what happened but Nile and I are already out of here with the drive. Find Joe and make your exit, _now_.” Second, the unmistakable sound of a gunshot _cracks_ loudly into the quiet of the hall.

Nicky’s adrenaline spikes and he rushes in the direction of the sound, swinging open the door he’s sure it came from.

To his horror, he finds Joe laying on the ground, bleeding from his chest, eyes closed. Bradford is standing above him, gun in hand. A buzzing fills Nicky’s head then, and in two quick movements he disarms Bradford and whips him with the back of the pistol, not wanting to shoot it and bring anymore attention to where they are.

Nicky doesn’t watch Bradford crumple to the ground, hurrying to where Joe is and falling to his knees beside him. _No, no, no,_ he thinks, _not like this, not like this._ He tears Joe’s shirt open to see two bullet holes in his chest and, _thank God_ , even though Joe’s eyes are still closed, the wounds are already starting to heal.

Nicky hears a sound behind him and turns to see Bradford on his feet, scrambling for the door.

A rage fills Nicky then, the kind he’s learned to control after centuries of practice. He’s not in the mood to control it right now, though. He moves quickly, grabbing a knife from the sheath hidden on his ankle, grabbing Bradford before he can get to the door. Nicky slams him up against the wall, pressing the knife to the man’s throat.

Bradford holds his hands up, “Please, please, don’t! I know he’s your husband but I can give you whatever you want-”

Nicky cuts him off, snorting derisively.

This past night has been a rollercoaster of emotion, and the site of Joe’s dead body has left Nicky feeling like an exposed nerve. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret, you worthless piece of shit.” Nicky hisses and presses the knife harder to Bradford’s throat, letting over 900 years of pain and rage shine through as he stares Bradford down. “That man is not my husband. But I would give _anything_ for him to be. For him to love me as I love him. He’s my _sun-_ do you understand that? He is everything good and light in this long fucking life. And _you_. You thought you could put that light out.”

Bradford opens his mouth to respond or maybe beg, but before he can get a word out, Nicky slits his throat in a cold, practiced motion, letting him fall unceremoniously to the ground.

He startles at a sudden touch to his shoulder, turning to find Joe standing there, whole and alive. Nicky breathes a sigh of relief, wrapping his arms around Joe’s shoulders. “Yusuf, thank God, are you-”

“I’m alright.” Joe leans back, eyes searching Nicky’s face. “I was an idiot, he made me and I didn’t think he’d have a gun. Let’s get out of here, we can still get out through the back exit as planned.”

They get out of there.

***

Joe doesn’t say anything until Nicky has him sitting on his bed, wiping the blood off of his chest with a warm, damp cloth.

Both of them had been silent the entire ride home, thrumming with the tension of what was meant to be a fairly simple mission gone wrong. Only after they’d gotten back to the safehouse, and Nicky was able to see Andy and Nile with his own eyes, and Copley reassured them over the phone that nothing had happened that he wouldn’t be able to cover up, was Nicky able to relax even a little bit. Then, he’d dragged Joe off to Nicky’s own room.

“Sit down. Shirt off.” Nicky had said softly, disappearing and returning quickly with a wet towel.

Cleaning the blood off of each other isn’t a novelty. When they were first becoming friends, this act had cemented a level of trust between them that had been previously lacking. Now, Nicky finds the ritual of watching the blood disappear from Joe’s skin to find him unharmed underneath soothing.

As Nicky kneels between Joe’s legs and cleans Joe’s bare chest by the light of the full moon shining through the window, he feels Joe’s eyes on him, brimming with an emotion that Nicky can’t name.

Finally, Joe speaks. “I overheard you talking to Andromache and Quynh about us one night.”

Nicky feels thrown at the non-sequitur. “What do you mean?”

Joe’s voice sounds distant to Nicky, as if he’s speaking from across a windy field, even though he’s sitting right there, solid and real under Nicky’s hands. “It was the early 1200s.” He says, pinning Nicky with those expressive eyes, “Andromache asked if there could ever be more between us than just friendship and you told her: ‘Yusuf and I are not meant for each other like that.’ Did you mean it?”

Nicky remembers that night vaguely, mostly recalls feeling irritated that Andy and Quynh were poking at such a sore spot for Nicky. He frowns, “I didn’t know you heard that.”

“Did you mean it?” Joe presses.

“I did.” Nicky says and gets up off of his knees and goes to sit beside Joe on the bed. “You’ve always been clear that there would be nothing beyond friendship between us.”

It’s Joe’s turn to frown. “I have?”

Nicky wrings the cloth in his hands, uncharacteristically nervous with the topic of conversation. “The first time we slept together. You told me that it changed nothing, that we would always be friends.” He looks at Joe, “Why are you bringing this up now?”

Joe takes a deep breath and moves the cloth out of Nicky’s hands, tangling their fingers together instead. Nicky instinctively grips back. “Because I overheard something else tonight. What you said to Bradford.”

Nicky’s heart leaps into his throat. “You heard that?”

“I did.” Joe says, and then his voice drops to a whisper, and Nicky notices that there are tears gathering in his eyes. “Nicolò, is it true? Are you- do you love me? Beyond just friendship?”

Nicky closes his eyes. He has nowhere to hide the truth from Joe any longer. “I love you, Yusuf.” He opens his eyes, voice cracking as he admits what he has held inside his heart for so long. “I have been in love with you for so long. I’m so sorry. I never meant to burden you with these feelings or for you to feel that I was, was, _deceiving_ you in some way-”

Joe stops his rambling with a sound that seems as if it’s crawled from the back of his throat, pitching forward to press his lips to Nicky’s in a close-mouthed and bruising kiss. Nicky is bewildered but helpless to do anything but kiss him back, hands still tangled with Joe’s.

Joe stops kissing him and presses his forehead to Nicky’s, speaking into the space between their mouths, tone wounded and breathless, “Oh, _Nicolò_. Oh, my love.”

Nicky shakes his head, confused, tears forming in his own eyes, “What?”

“ _Ya amar_ , you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear those words from you. I love you, _hayati_ , I have for centuries.” Tears are streaming down Joe’s handsome face and Nicky feels as though he’s been punched in the gut. “I never told you because I thought you didn’t return my feelings. I couldn’t bear the idea of telling you and hearing you tell me that you do not love me the same.”

Nicky’s hands never shake, a quality that makes him an excellent sniper. But tonight, as Joe tells him words he’s only ever fantasized about hearing, and Nicky moves his hands up to cup Joe’s jaw and brush his tears away, a tremor runs through his fingers. Nicky is awestruck when he says, “You _love_ me.”

Nicky has no more words to express the enormity of his feelings so he surges forward and brings their lips together again, and again and again, unable to stop crying all the while. Joe kisses him back just as fiercely, swinging a leg over to crawl into Nicky’s lap as if he wants to meld their bodies into one. Joe presses kisses to Nicky’s wet cheeks, his nose, his forehead, mumbling between kisses like a prayer, “ _I love you, I love you, I love you._ ”

Nicky can’t speak, shocked and overwhelmed. He tries to respond through his touches and kisses instead, worshipping Joe the way he’s wanted to for centuries. Simultaneously, they tip onto the bed on their sides, facing each other, arms wrapped around waists, chests pressed together. “I’ve always loved the way you kiss me.” Joe breathes, “You’re my everything, Nico. My moon and my muse since I’ve known you. Every poem, every piece of art I’ve ever created has been about you. I’ll go to my final death loving you, _hayati_ , I would have even if I never knew you loved me back.”

Nicky feels shattered, thinking about how they’ve been breaking each other's hearts all these years. Nicky kisses him again, unable to resist knowing now that he can, and that Joe _wants_ him to. “No more, _amore mio_ ,” Nicky vows, “I will not let a day go by without you knowing how much I love you.”

Their kisses grow deeper, more heated then. They’ve touched each other like this hundreds of times before but Nicky feels reborn under Joe’s hands tonight, finding it unfathomable that he’s experiencing a new type of joy after spending almost a millenia on this Earth.

They barely detach to pull their clothes off awkwardly, shoulders and knees bumping, unwilling to not be touching for even a moment. Even when Nicky leans back slightly to ask what Joe wants, Joe only whimpers and tugs Nicky back into a kiss. Eventually though, Joe pulls back and licks a long stripe across his own palm, and wriggles his hand between their bodies, wrapping both their cocks together in his long, beautiful fingers.

Joe whispers against Nicky’s mouth as Nicky’s hips stutter involuntarily, “Just like this, okay, my love?”

Nicky’s heart pounds at the endearment and at the slightly dry friction of Joe’s hand. He slides his hands into Joe’s curls, smiling broadly- the kind of smile that only Joe can elicit. “Like the old days, yes?”

Joe laughs, and Nicky steals it out of his mouth with a messy kiss. There is no finesse to their movements, none of the skill they usually bring to these encounters. Tonight, there is just _them_ \- intent on keeping their bodies as close as possible, to wring pleasure from each other, to learn each other like this, knowing that they are both loved so wholly, so reciprocally, so thoroughly.

They come together like that, groaning and panting into each other's skin. After, they just breathe together, both of them unable and unwilling to stop smiling, overjoyed and at peace in this perfect moment.

They fall asleep in each other’s arms, Nicky gathering his love closer, closer, closer.

***

The next morning, Joe wakes to an empty bed and panics.

If he wasn’t still naked and in Nicky’s bed, he would be sure that he’d dreamt the events of the night before. Instead of descending into a total spiral, he follows his instinct, puts on a pair of Nicky’s sleep pants, and leaves the bedroom to find Nicky in the kitchen as he predicted.

His fears are assuaged when Nicky turns from where’s pouring coffee and gives him a soft smile. “Oh, _tesoro_ ,” he says, “I was gonna bring you coffee in bed.”

Nicky’s dark hair and bare shoulders are lit up by the golden rays of the early morning sun, and Joe’s heart could burst with how much he loves this man. Joe grins and ambles over to wrap his arms around Nicky from behind as he’s imagined doing on so many of these mornings.

He hooks his chin over Nicky’s shoulder and smacks a kiss to Nicky’s beauty mark. “I didn’t know this relationship involved perks like coffee in bed.”

Nicky leans back into his chest, “Mm, I’m doing whatever I can to convince you to stick around.”

Joe knows he’s only joking but he tightens his arms around Nicky’s waist anyway, and kisses at Nicky’s neck, nipping a little to make Nicky’s smile widen. “No need, _ya amar_. I’m stuck. You’ll never get rid of me now.”

Nicky takes one of Joe’s hands to place a kiss to his palm. “I’m counting on it.”

Joe notices a glint of silver on Nicky’s fingers as he does. “You’re still wearing my ring.” He says, inexplicably delighted by the idea.

“Oh,” Nicky says, “I can-”

“No, no,” Joe says, covering Nicky’s hand where he’s about to take it off. “Keep it. At least for a little longer.”

Nicky turns in Joe’s arms and kisses him then, slow and deep, Joe melting against him as he’s done from their very first kiss. They part, and Nicky hands him his coffee, perfectly made as always. “Now, come on,” Nicky says, “I was looking forward to enjoying this coffee in bed with you.”

They make it to bed, but the coffees are quickly forgotten on the nightstand. Somehow, Joe doesn’t mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's all folks!! i have loved writing this story so much, it's been such a fun thing to get to overthink and write about these two <3
> 
> thank you, thank you, thank you, for all the support and kind feedback 💕 i hope this chapter gave you some resolution to all that pining!!
> 
> if you enjoyed, please feel free to hit kudos or let me know how you liked it in the comments, i cherish every single one ✨

**Author's Note:**

> i should be studying for the lsat so naturally, i had to write this self-indulgent fic instead. 
> 
> let me know what you think so far in the comments! <3
> 
> find me on tumblr @hziersmoon


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